


Oînops Póntos

by gaygreekgladiator (ama)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Other, Pirates, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/gaygreekgladiator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castus and Nasir are happy as pirates, as mages, and as lovers. When Agron and his brother join the ship, tensions emerge and decisions must be made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oînops Póntos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [canadasuperhero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadasuperhero/gifts).



> This was in response to [Ray's](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/spartacusrbbmod/65201913/11904/11904_600.jpg) [fantastic](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/spartacusrbbmod/65201913/11712/11712_600.jpg) [RBB](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/spartacusrbbmod/65201913/11421/11421_600.jpg) [prompt](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/spartacusrbbmod/65201913/15483/15483_600.jpg). Much thanks to Rivlee for beta'ing.

“Fuck,” Nasir muttered, and Castus rested his head against his thigh with a catlike grin. He pushed himself up, ignoring the rocking of the ship, and kissed Nasir’s forehead sweetly.

“Are you properly awake now, or should I fetch Sibyl?”

“I _will_ cut off your cock; we’ve agreed you aren’t to traumatize the poor girl anymore.” He sat up and pulled his hair back with a strip of leather. “It is not yet dawn. Unless we run ashore of your beast—”

“Scylla would not take kindly to those words,” Castus warned.

“—I still do not see the point of waking.”

Castus chuckled, cupped Nasir’s chin, and kissed him briefly on the lips. It amused him that, nine times of ten, Castus would be the one to complain—of poor wine, boredom, miniscule habits of their fellow crew that annoyed him, what have you. When it came to rising to greet the day, however, Castus could jump up with a smile, while Nasir’s face was carved with such forbidding lines that even Laeta hesitated to engage him in conversation.  Very few things caused their captain to pause.

To prove that he was a devoted and conscientious lover, Castus stretched across the floor and managed to hook Nasir’s ghastly-colored trousers (not that he could say so aloud without immediately being branded hypocrite) with one finger and drag them across the floor. He tossed them at Nasir, and settled back amongst the small nest of blankets that served as their bed. Castus had been granted a room of his own under Heracleo’s reign, which he retained, but the wooden slat jutting from the wall was not meant to fit two bodies. He sometimes wondered how Laeta and Kore managed—for some reason, he could not see Laeta burrowing like a rabbit on the floor.

“Will you join me?” Nasir asked as he stood.

He threw a cloak around his shoulders; it was one Castus had given him last year, woven in with symbols that the scholar-mages used for protection, clear-headedness, and warmth. The spells were cheap, meant to fade after a mere six months or so, but they had not counted on it being gifted to a weaving mage. Nasir had sunk the magic so deep into the fabric that it would not fade for a decade, at least. It was the same trick, he said, that he used to keep their clothes in vibrant colors.

Castus thought for a moment, then stood with him.

“I would set eyes on Neapolis as soon as possible. If we make haste, our business in that wretched city might be concluded in a day or less, and we can head for Alexandria.”

“Alexandria is not the only worthy city in the world,” Nasir chuckled, and they argued comfortably about that as they went above deck.

Castus took a deep breath as they reached the open air, and let out a contented sigh. Most pirates got so used to the smell of the sea that they ceased to notice it at all after a few years. They did not have Castus’s sense for the water; each stretch of ocean had its own scent, its own currents and creatures. He leaned against the rail and smiled down at the familiar water. The waves lapped happily against the side of the ship, greeting him. Nasir smiled and kissed his cheek.

“And just like that, I am forgotten,” he teased.

“Never, my love. There is room in my heart for you and the sea.”

\---

Castus noticed them right away. They were tall and broad, dressed in rags but carrying themselves with the dignity of kings. Their hair was matted, their cheeks unshaven. They spoke to each other in low mumbles—from Castus’s distance, he couldn’t have heard them anyway, but he could tell that they barely opened their lips—and their eyes darted around the docks of Neapolis almost fearfully, alighting on ship after ship, sailor after sailor. Castus leaned against the rail and watched them.

“What catches eye, when you should be aiding me in this?” Nasir asked, hefting a small crate of cloth that they were to trade in the marketplace. He leaned against the rail, and Castus nodded his head at the two men.

“What purpose do you think they have? They have not moved nor spoken to anyone in near ten minutes.”

“Perhaps they seek position on board a ship that does not yet have mages,” Nasir shrugged.

“How—”

“The cloth,” Nasir pointed. Castus looked closer, and realized that one of the men was wearing strips of some red material on his earring, and the other had the same fabric wrapped around the strap of his cloak. “Worn by mages in Gaul and Germania. The magic in them is weak, though, not cast by a weaving mage; it does not identify them clearly.”

“Let us discover for ourselves, then,” Castus said, holding out his arm. Nasir sighed, looked at the two, and set the box down, curiosity overcoming him. Together they walked down the gangplank and went towards the two men.

“Do you seek a ship?” Castus asked with an amiable smile. This close, he guessed that the men were brothers; there was something similar in their faces.

The two exchanged glances. Castus’s sharp eyes noticed the way the smaller turned to his brother first, in the habit of seeking his direction, but he shrugged, and the younger spoke for them both.

“We require passage north,” he said, in accented Latin. Castus’s eyes slid to the older brother, who was eyeing him suspiciously. “We can work for space—I have some skill with carpentry, and my brother—”

Castus was already shaking his head.

“The winds have arrived. Every ship in Rome is sailing south and east.”

And the docks were rejoicing. Weather mages could make the seas traversable even in the winter by tying favorable winds into knots that could be released on the voyage, but the knots were expensive and did nothing against crashing waves. Travel the past few months had been costly.

Not for this crew, of course, given that Castus had begun befriending storms and tides at age twelve, but he was looking forward to calmer skies for the next few months. Winds were not his forte.

The man he had spoken to swore vehemently in his mother tongue, and his brother’s frown deepened.

“When will they go north?” he demanded, and Castus had to fight his smile.

“It is impossible to say. Rome’s demand for gold and grain is boundless.”

“What names do you go by?” Nasir asked.

The taller brother gazed at him for a moment, suspicion and… undeniable attraction in his gaze. Castus tried to hide his smirk.

“I am Agron, from east of the Rhine,” he said finally. “And my brother, Duro.”

“Far from home, then.” Nasir flashed an encouraging smile. “In the absence of passage, do you seek work? Our captain is always on the lookout for new crewmembers, especially mages.”

Before the words had left his mouth, the ground beneath their feet began to rumble. Castus looked down in alarm; he had excellent balance on rolling waves, but no experience applying those skills on land. He looked at Nasir, who was looking straight at Agron with his mouth turned down.

“Childish,” he said in a critical voice. “And if you were attempting to keep your magic hidden, very counter-productive.”

Slowly, the German’s tight fist loosened and the earth stilled. His brother grinned.

“I like him,” he said to Agron in an audible murmur, in Latin. He added something in their native tongue and laughed; Agron rolled his eyes, and Castus deliberately hooked an arm around Nasir’s waist. Just in case. Agron’s eyes fell on him in instant dislike, and he smiled broadly.

“We will take you to our captain.”

\---

“I don’t like this,” Duro groaned. “I don’t like this at all.”

“Shut up, Duro,” Agron muttered through clenched teeth.

Castus watched on in equal parts pity and amusement. Both brothers had enjoyed the first few days at sea; Agron kept himself grounded by reaching down to the sea floor, and proudly strutted around without trembling. Duro delighted in the weeds and underwater plants that he had never felt before, and the opportunities they offered for study.

Unfortunately, the younger German brother still couldn’t manage to walk across the deck without stumbling a half-dozen times, and he bemoaned the loss of sturdy oaks for support. His legs were as wobbly as the weeds that tangled around each other in the depths below. As for Agron, his confidence in his sea legs had been steadily decreasing as the earth below them drew further and further away. Occasionally they drew closer to the coast and his discomfort was abated, but they were days away from land at this point. Gannicus, a mage who was seeking passage to Alexandria, only chuckled at their misery.

“How do you find the voyage?” Castus asked, arms crossed as he stood beside them.

“Pleasant,” Duro drawled sarcastically. Agron did not respond at all.

“Come, brothers,” Gannicus chided. “Breathe the sea air.”

“Fish and rot,” Agron snarled. Castus clucked his tongue.

“She has more to offer than that. There are fantastic sights hidden in the sea… one of which I could gladly display, if the sails were to slacken.”

Almost immediately, the strong wind at his back weakened and died. Wordlessly, all three men turned to look at Gannicus, who flashed an easy smile.

“Fifteen minutes. What fantastic sights are before us?”

“Out here?” Duro said with a frown, examining his surroundings. “There is nothing for miles except…” He opened his mouth and closed it again, with the air of an embarrassed schoolboy. Screwing up his courage, he sheepishly said: “At home, they spoke of sea monsters… great beasts that lurk within the deep.”

“Mere superstition, Duro,” Agron protested. “I’ve told you a hundred times—”

He broke off abruptly when he caught sight of Castus’s face. The pirate grinned. With practiced ease, he stripped off his belt and vest—they would only slow him down. He stepped up onto the ledge of the deck, and dived neatly into the water.

Castus had learned to swim when he was twelve. It had taken three days to master the skill that some veteran sailors never learned, and he liked to do it as often as possible. Heracleo teased him, said that he was showing off, but that was only part of the reason. To put it simply, Castus loved the sea. He was not a weather mage in the traditional sense; he could sometimes manipulate storm clouds heavy with rain, but he could not command skies to be clear with any frequency, and winds scorned his orders. The sea was his passion, his friend, his ally. As he dove, the waves lurched to meet him and pulled him down with eager affection.

He spread his arms and legs, congenially allowing the currents to swarm around his skin. As they did, he reached out with his own senses to feel for the creatures of the deep. When he found the one he had sought, he smiled to himself.

Lazily, he swam back to the surface and grinned up at the men on board. The German brothers stared down at the ocean uneasily. Their jaws dropped as the great sea dragon raised her head out of the water, Castus balanced on her forehead. Gannicus laughed delightedly.

Castus rested his hand on Scylla’s forehead for balance and sent the currents wiggling around her neck in a fond hello. She hummed in response, and her voice was so deep that small waves formed around her. He had met her in his first year at sea; he suspected that she had not met many ocean mages before, because she was always delighted to see and swim with him. Her scales were black as night and her fins emerald green. Her eyes, which were as large as rowboats, were a piercing gold. He had never seen her fully emerged from the water—in fact, he was not entirely sure if she could even fly, or if her wings merely functioned as fins—and had no way of knowing how large she was, but as far as he could tell, she was twice the size of the largest polyreme he had ever seen.

Most people found her intimidating, at first.

“Closer, my sweet,” he requested in a low murmur, and the currents urged her forward. Gannicus was leaning on the railing, eying Scylla with open admiration.

“There were dragons in my homeland. Not nearly this size. The smallest would reach the length of my arm, fully grown; the largest were, perhaps, two or three times the length of a horse. Tricky to domesticate, although they would allow mages to ride them.” The look on his face was dreamy.

“Castus!” a sharp voice shouted, and Laeta flung herself against the rail. “I have told you a thousand and one times, you cannot stop the fucking ship every time you wish to play with your dragon!”

Scylla, who was very fond of Laeta, stretched her head forward and the captain patted her absently, but Castus was forced to slip off of the dragon’s back and into the water. He scaled the side of the ship easily and hopped back on deck, slightly wet but no worse for the wear. He blew Scylla a kiss and she dove again with her low, echoing cry. The ship rocked in the wake of her submergence, and both Germans clung to the sides again, looking green.

“Wind,” Duro groaned, flinging his arm out and pointing south-east. “Now. That way.”

“More south,” Agron corrected. “A day and a half journey, at most.”

“Gratitude,” Castus said, thumping Agron on the back. The German retched and he felt a tiny flash of regret… but Agron kept _staring_ at Nasir, and not in the way that would lead to a quick fuck and friendship afterwards. Agron didn’t like Castus, and he was not inclined to befriend him either.

Gannicus twitched his fingers, and the wind propelled them south.                        

\---

Upon arrival in the city, Castus insisted on taking the German brothers for a drink as payment for their guidance. One drink turned into several, and before Nasir knew it, he was sitting in a tavern and listening to Castus and Duro both singing loudly, one in Greek, the other German, neither managing to stay in tune. Or even to pick out a decent melody. He smiled his eye, humming the melody perfectly on-cue, and sipped his own wine.

“Sit down, you little shit,” Agron sighed, yanking his brother off the table. Castus, who had been overcome in a fit of giggles as Duro attempted to scramble up there, snorted into his cup and rocked dangerously. Nasir hurriedly slung an arm around his shoulders.

Duro responded to his brother in slurred German, and wandered off to the bar, gesturing grandly for Castus to join him. Castus stood up as he considered it, wobbled, and sat back down.

“Tired,” he mumbled. Nasir leaned back in his seat, thoroughly unsurprised—Castus usually ended up unconscious after he went drinking, whether voluntarily or not. Nasir patted his thigh, and Castus happily let his head rest in his lap, and almost instantly fell asleep.

Unconsciously, Nasir’s fingers began to trace Castus’s forehead and the edge of his wrap. Soft on the bottom, then lined with fish scales, and finally dragonskin on the top. Castus had been very reluctant to purchase dragonskin, of course, because he was fond of them, but given a choice between owning it himself and seeing it draped around a rich Roman, he had picked the former.

Nasir looked up and saw that Agron was watching on them, open curiosity on his face—and something else kept hidden. The back of Nasir’s fingers brushed against Castus’s cheek and then stilled as a blush rose on his own face. He could not imagine why… it was not an unusual circumstance for him, to be caught touching Castus in public. Yet there was a longing and a judgment in Agron’s face that made him pause. Or perhaps he was imagining things in the firelight.

“None would say you look a pirate,” Agron said abruptly, and Nasir was startled out of his thoughts.

“No?”

Agron shook his head and took a sip of wine.

“Castus does.”

“No surprise; he was born to it. His father was a highwayman, his mother a pirate lady. There are more than you would expect,” he said with a smile at Agron’s surprise.

“I had thought the women of your ship exceptional.”

“ _Our_ ship. And they are for many reasons, but that not among them.”

“And you?”

“I was a slave,” Nasir said simply. “From the time I was young. We took passage on a slaver’s ship to Alexandria, and it was attacked by pirates—by the old captain, Heracleo. My master was to be ransomed, of course, but he caused a great deal of undue effort and irritation, and Castus argued that it would be fitting punishment for him to watch me be freed.”

“Gratitude, then,” Agron muttered to himself. Nasir guessed that he was not supposed to hear that, and he looked down at Castus’s face with sweetness in his smile.

“I had nothing to be grateful for. Heracleo disagreed. But that night, one of the other passengers was called to his cabin, and he made the mistake of turning his back on a woman who could reach his knife.”

“Laeta?” Agron asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise. Nasir smiled. “She has the bearing of a noblewoman, I suppose,” he added as an afterthought. “But I would not have guessed it.”

“Yes. Rather than return to Rome, she became our captain. Forbade us from trading in slaves, of course, and she kept Castus as her right-hand man because he had shown distaste for it. I had never met a man like him before,” he said, looking down to hide the softness in his eyes. “Free with jokes and compliments. Devoted and independent at once. My heart was easily given.”

“Perhaps too easily.”

Nasir looked up abruptly. The words were blunter than he had expected, slurred slightly around the edges, and when he looked closer at Agron, he understood. A log fell in the hearth and the fire flared brighter, the light illuminating the painfully earnest expression on Agron’s face.

“You are drunk.”

“Yes. As are you. As are these fools,” he added, nodding at his brother.

“I fear you will regret your words in the morning—yet they do deserve a response. I would give it under better circumstances.”

“I would hear it now,” Agron argued. “Free of troublesome ears.”

That was fair. Nasir reached for his cup and threw back the last of his wine; he would be well on his way to drunkenness, too, if he did not stop soon.

“I have been given no reason to regret my choice,” he said candidly. “Castus is kind, and not a day has passed that he has not brought a smile to face. If there are things I cannot seek from him—”

“Like loyalty?”

Nasir’s voice was as neutral as he could make it when he responded. Agron _could not_ know of the nights spent in deep discussion over this very topic. Even in such scant weeks, Nasir knew him well enough to be confident that Agron would seize the bait, dig his teeth in, and never let go.

“He has never turned from me when I asked it of him.”

“Not an hour ago he was falling over a boy whore outside!” Agron protested, frustration making his words louder than Nasir would have liked. But he was clearly upset on Nasir’s part, not merely his own, and that softened any embarrassment Nasir might have felt. Unbidden, his hand travelled down to Castus’s wrist, which he gripped loosely.

“Yes. It is a difficult thing, to be together so constantly. Some men chafe under those conditions and seek desires elsewhere. It has been discussed between us. He would never lie to me, nor hide genuine feeling, nor reject my needs in favor of another’s. He makes me happy. That is all I ask.”

Agron stared at him in utter befuddlement for a few minutes. He took another sip of wine and shook his head.

“He sounds a good man,” he admitted reluctantly.

“He is.”

“And an ass.”

Nasir smiled.

“That as well.”

“If—if ever… you chafe…” The wine made him stumble, uncharacteristically, and a blush rose to his cheeks that was mirrored by Nasir’s own. “I would see you happy, as well.”

“Gratitude,” Nasir said.

His voice was very small, and he stared at the wooden floor beneath his feet rather than look Agron in the eye. His heart was not beating as it should, but instead contorting itself painfully, and he could not sort out its meaning.

There was tenderness in the rough scrape of Agron’s voice that made him ache, and he could not shake the sensation of being pinned down by those vivid eyes. Yet the weight of Castus’s head on his thigh, and the warmth of his shoulders against his legs, was ever-present. The firelight fell on his cheekbones, his lashes, and Nasir found it impossible to forget why he had fallen in love. Why he was still in love.

He took a shaky breath, and leaned down to kiss Castus’s forehead.

“Come,” he said, shoving him gently on the shoulder. “Back to the ship.”

Castus yawned and sleepily obeyed. Nasir slung an arm around his waist and together they made a slow beginning towards the exit, only stopping when they were to pass Agron. Quickly, Nasir stooped down and kissed Agron on the forehead as well.

“Do not sleep in a ditch. Do not get into a bar fight. Bring your brother safely home.”

“I will,” Agron swore with perfect, drunken sincerity.

Nasir’s smile slipped away as they left the bar and Castus, without quite knowing why, squeezed him tighter.

\---

The next morning, Castus woke up with a long, low groan. Nasir punched him in the hip—carefully avoiding his stomach, so as not to trigger unpleasant spewing—and pressed his face harder into the pillow.

“Water?” Castus rasped.

“Where it always is.”

“Are we on land? My stomach rolls…”

“Lazy brute,” Nasir grumbled. He pushed himself up with a sigh and pulled the sea-chest of their belongings closer. There was a water skin on top of the pile, which he tossed at Castus. It landed on his lover’s chest and Castus turned his head to blow him a kiss.

“You are a god arisen from the deep.”

Nasir stretched back over the blankets and curled up by Castus’s side. He closed his eyes and sought sleep again, but once Castus had drained the water skin he was impossible to keep from speech. His fingers drifted lazily across Nasir’s shoulders in a soothing rhythm.

“You are not in such a wretched state as I am this morning.”

“I never am.”

“Perhaps not. What of the hardy German brothers?”

“Duro was as drunk as you last night, Agron less so.”

“He wouldn’t be,” Castus snorted. He let out a deep sigh, and his eyes fell closed. “Good fuck?” he asked offhand.

The muscles of Nasir’s back tensed and he glanced down automatically, eyes fixing on a hole in the red fabric of their blanket.

“I would not know,” he said coolly, and Castus opened his eyes in surprise.

“Why not? I provided you with opportunity—why did you not take it? I would have, had I thought him tempted by me.” Nasir remained silent, and Castus let out his breath in a soft huff. “Ah. The German falls in love quickly, then.”

“Castus,” Nasir snapped, but his lover waved him away.

“I do not mock him. I lost my heart to you within minutes.” The silence that filled the room was familiar, accompanied by the creak of the ship and the soft frothing of the waves. Castus turned his head and kissed Nasir’s forehead. “He is not without charms,” he murmured in a bland voice.

Nasir kissed him on the lips firmly.

“Neither are you. I would not lie with him when… when heart was at risk of softening. Especially not with your eyes diverted.”

“And my eyes upon you?” Castus asked thoughtfully. Nasir stared at him, then tucked his head down again and closed his eyes, intending to go back to sleep.

“It is not a joking matter,” he said shortly.

He drifted back into slumber before he could full realize that Castus’s voice had sounded absolutely serious.

\---

That night, after several long discussions, Nasir approached Agron below deck and pulled him into an empty storeroom. Agron looked as though he was trying to hide embarrassment—he was not a man who easily admitted to shame.

“My words last night were unwarranted,” he began immediately. “Apologies.”

Nasir looked up at him and laughed.

“Agron. There is no need to lie.”

Nasir stepped forward and, before he could stop himself, wrapped his arms around Agron’s neck and pulled him down. The German met his lips with little resistance, and his arms closed tightly around Nasir’s waist. For some moments they were still except for the tilt of heads and joining of lips. Nasir could feel the heat simmering in his veins—sparked by Agron’s touch, fed by the thought of Castus in their room, waiting for their return.

Agron broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Nasir’s, breathing heavily. His hands came up to cup Nasir’s face, thumb gently swirling over his chin. Nasir closed his eyes.

“What about—?”

“I have no desire to leave him,” Nasir murmured in a hoarse voice. He opened his eyes and met Agron’s gaze solemnly. “I desire for you to join us.”

Agron paused and Nasir could practically see the thoughts racing through his eyes.

“And if I decline?”

Nasir tilted his head, just slightly, and their lips brushed as he spoke.

“I would know the taste of your lips, once,” he whispered. Agron thought for another moment, and kissed Nasir’s forehead.

“Once, then.”

\----

Agron was in a foul temper all the next day, and it showed. His fellow crewmates looked at him with either fear or irritation—only Duro, used to Agron’s sulks, whistled and joked as loudly as always. At least until it was time to retire to their quarters. Agron made to go below deck and Duro grabbed him by the arm and forcefully marched him to the prow of the ship.

“Neither of us are dead or dying, we’re sailing with trustworthy people for the first time in years—and still you sulk.”

“Fuck off,” Agron snarled. He turned around and Duro punched him in the arm.

“No. If we are to die or start a fight, I ought to know.”

“It is no concern of yours.”

Duro leaned against the rail, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed Agron’s face. Agron glared at him. His brother was an idiot—and he said so with all the fondness in his heart—but he had an irritating habit of occasionally stumbling upon the truth. And he always tilted his head that _exact_ way when he was about to do it.

“Nasir or Castus?”

“Don’t you _know_?” Agron asked mockingly, because Duro was always adamant that he was right.

“It was Nasir at first,” Duro said, crossing his arms and his brows drew close over his eyes. “I know it was. Now I am not sure.”

Agron had the strong desire to walk away, but he hesitated. It had been an odd few weeks; he yet missed the feel of steady earth beneath him, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for German words whenever he was asked a question, and he was in love with two fucking men at the same time. Duro, imbecile that he was, might actually say something useful. He sat down and leaned against the edge of the ship, determinedly not looking at his brother.

“Both,” he admitted.

Duro slid down to sit beside him and there was a half-second of quiet before he began to chuckle.

“Castus will be thrilled.”

“He—it does not matter. I am not sure if I desire to commit heart to this fucking ship, let alone two pirates.”

“You say the word with disgust,” Duro noted in amusement. “As though we have not committed the same crimes. Besides, I have no desire to leave. This life suits me—sea plants are as varied and interesting as trees, when you know them well enough, and it offers opportunities we never would have dreamed of in Germania.”

“It is not a _home_ , Duro. It’s a fucking boat.”

“With a bed and family attached. What else do you require? Pliant body beneath yours? Because you have two.”

“Fuck off,” Agron repeated, but Duro was already laughing. He elbowed his brother’s side.

“Relax, brother. Let your mind at ease, for once in your fucking life.”

He kissed the side of Agron’s head and stood, strolling without a care towards the common quarters. Agron, still far from certain, stared into the distance as he tried to sort his thoughts. It was disconcerting, to be so frequently at sea. He was not used to having to _reach_ with his magic to feel for the earth. He had discovered, however, that it was not as infirm as he had once taken it. The sand on the ocean floor, and the grit swirling through the waves had their own textures that he was just beginning to learn. He liked it… as long as they made frequent stops at port.

Unbidden, his thoughts turned back to their last stop on land. The wine had loosened Agron’s tongue, but it had done nothing to impair his understanding. He thought back to the words Nasir had spoken, the soft compassion in his voice… In the wake of their conversation, Agron could admit that the feelings he held for the Syrian were stronger than he had once believed. The fact that Nasir was tied to Castus did not diminish that.

And since then, he could no longer dismiss Castus, either. The unmistakable sincerity in Nasir’s words made Agron more willing to see Castus’s virtues. He picked at Agron’s temper, yes, but he was not without integrity or bravery.

Agron closed his eyes and a vision of the two of them, comfortably intertwined in the flickering shadows, rose to his mind.

Shit. Shit shit _shit_.

\---

Laeta stared at the sky, her eyes as grey and dark as the storm before them. Her arms were folded and her mouth twisted in a deep frown.

“We can’t sail around it,” Kore said, stating the obvious.

“Hm.”

“The wind-knots won’t be strong enough to drive it away,” Nasir said quietly.

Rain poured steadily from the clouds, and as they spoke the wind began to pick up, tugging at their clothes. Castus could feel the waves before they affected the ship, and he blew air between his teeth.

“I can do my best, captain. I doubt it will be enough.”

“Try,” Laeta ordered with a curt nod. She turned and began to shout orders to the crew.

“I will bind us,” Nasir said to Castus. It was a skill they had done before—Nasir could weave their magic together as easily as he wove threads, though it did not work with all mages. Castus nodded, but he did not turn from the prow of the ship just yet. He needed a moment to study the storm before it erupted in chaos.

He heard footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder to find Agron, looking green again.

“Where is your brother?” he asked.

“Below deck. He would be of no fucking use in this. Kore says the two of you will be doing magic?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will remain,” he said firmly, planting himself where he stood. “To see that you do not pitch yourselves overboard. I have seen you work your magics many times,” he said loudly when they began to protest. “You are too careless, both of you. In my land, we learn not to take ridiculous risks without first having sure footing.”

Nasir did not look convinced, but there was a riotous crack of thunder and he nodded. Without further dithering, Castus grit his teeth and flung himself into the storm.

The patterns of the waves were familiar; they thrashed themselves against the hull of the ship with a terrified anger, a mob thrown into frenzy by the wind. He probed deeper into the water and was relieved to find that it held no malice. The stronger currents, further down, were unmoved. He drew back slightly, focusing on the shallower, frantic waves, and gripped tightly.

Almost immediately, a cheer arose from the crew as the ship sat still on the waves. But before their cries could fade, the wind rammed into them again, and the ship was careening wildly once more. It crossed the boundaries set by Castus’s magic, and he fell back with a gasp. Instantly, Nasir and Agron’s hands were upon him, steadying and offering comfort.

“I cannot hold it,” he panted. “The sea obeys, but the storm…”

“Does the pattern evade you?” Nasir asked, voice raised over the storm.

“No, I have the skill. It is the strength—even with yours added to mine, I doubt it could be done.”

“What about mine?” Agron asked, and Castus and Nasir looked at him in surprise. Agron’s jaw was set. “Your strength is drained by the weaving, is it not? And Castus’s by exploring the storm. I have no such skill, so you may draw on mine without worry.”

Castus stared up at the clouds, trying desperately as the wind battered him.

“It may be done,” he said finally.

“Then let it be done,” Agron said with grim determination.

Nasir nodded and turned to Castus without another moment to spare. His lips touched Castus for only a moment—in order to give support and to get a physical hold on his magic, which made the process easier even after all this time. They parted and Nasir drew his hand back, like a seamstress drawing the first thin stretch of yarn from unfinished wool.

It was an odd feeling; Castus could sense himself pulled tight, then his magic spilled out of his body entirely and was draped loose over Nasir’s fingers. The storm was the greatest challenge they had ever faced in this manner, and Nasir continued to pull until Castus gritted his teeth. Instantly, Nasir stopped, sensing that the remaining stores were near empty.

“Too much?”

“Just enough. The winds are strong.”

He opened his eyes and looked up through the rain and clouds. Castus could not sense them, not with his magic draped over Nasir’s hands, but he could judge them with a sailor’s eye. Nasir turned to Agron and began the same process—slower, because he did not know Agron’s limits. Castus looked at Agron from the corner of his eye and could see that the German was uncomfortable. He reached out after a bare second of hesitation and tightly grasped Agron’s hand.

“Keep me grounded,” he said, his lips brushing Agron’s ear. “If I stray too far, pull back—Nasir will monitor the stitches, but you will know before he does if your strength wanes.”

Agron looked pale—if he did not know better, Castus might say he was afraid—but he nodded.

“My strength will not wane,” he said in a firm voice.

“Good man,” Castus groaned, and squeezed his hand.

“Ready?” Nasir asked, and without waiting for the answer he began to weave.

He began with a tight stitch, knitting them so close together that there could be no distinction between the two. Castus could feel Agron’s magic as surely as he could feel Agron’s hand in his. It was warm and solid, packed earth made even stronger than Nasir’s pattern. Soon it became apparent that Nasir was using Agron’s magic as a base. Castus’s was woven thinner, like rivulets of water flowing quietly through the ground. Once the pattern was near completion, Castus was given more freedom at the edges, so that he would be able to scout the wind and waves.

 Castus took a deep breath—his lungs were filled with crisp sea air and he smiled. This was good. This was _perfect_. There was no need to hold part of himself back, to have a care for his physical body. Nasir would keep him safe, and Agron would keep him strong.

 _I cannot suppress a storm of this_ _size_ , he said to Agron, and could feel the German’s understanding. _If every mage on the ship were to attempt it, they would die. But I can divert its course… can you feel the nearest land north-east?_

 _No. it is too far._ There was a pause, and Castus briefly saw through Agron’s eyes. He could feel the shore and earth, but it wasn’t confining, the way it felt when he possessed water locked by the earth. This instead was comforting, humming in Agron’s presence, and Castus felt at home. Together, their minds and magics linked, they touched a piece of land in the southeast, but Castus had barely registered its presence before Agron yanked them away. _A city_ , he communicated. _Villages, new-broken earth for building… send it due south. Nothing permanent is there._

Castus ascertained that there were no ships on that course, and took another breath.

 _Let us begin_.

Agron’s grip tightened on his hand, and Castus flung himself into the storm.

-

As soon as Nasir cut their magic loose, Castus’s knees buckled. Agron caught him hastily, although his own head was spinning, and Nasir leapt forward. His hand fluttered nervously over Castus’s cheek.

“The idiot,” he fumed. “He ought to know better.”

“We could not stop when told,” Agron argued as spots flashed before his eyes. “The storm was nearly conquered—”

“You are nearly conquered,” Nasir interrupted, his sharp eye missing nothing. Castus stirred with a soft noise, and Nasir patted his cheek. “Below deck, to bed. _Now_. See that he gets there safely,” he said to Agron. “And if I see either of your heads again, I will cut them off.”

Agron would have protested, but his very bones were aching, and the thought of rest appealed to him. He nodded, looped an arm around Castus’s waist for support, and together they headed for Castus’s quarters. The pirate yawned.

“Did I collapse?”

“For but a moment.”

They reached the cabin and Castus, without a moment’s hesitation, tried to fling himself on the small pile of blankets and pillows that served as bed. Agron prevented him, although the effort made his head spin. With more care, he directed Castus to sit so that he would not break anything. As he moved to stand, Castus’s hand latched on his arm.

“Stay. Thoughts linger… stay.”

Agron hesitated. He, too, could hear an echo—a lasting scent of Castus’s mind and magic in his head. He could feel an insistent tug… blankets, the warmth of a body against his…. Castus yawned again, and Agron gave in. He was tired, and he collapsed onto the bed without protest.

“Sleep, or Nasir will have blood,” he mumbled. Castus nodded absently, and leaned forward for a kiss.

Without thinking, Agron leaned into it, one hand alighting on the back of Castus’s neck. It was not a kiss full of desire or energy. It was familiar, somehow, and comforting. His breath was released in a heavy, happy sigh, and as Castus tried to pull away, Agron kept him close and touched their foreheads together. Peace hummed in his veins. He could not articulate how it felt, to have his magic woven in with Castus’s, but it seemed natural now to be physically close to him. All he missed was Nasir, holding them together.

He had been uncertain before, and now… he wasn’t.

He pressed another kiss to Castus’s lips. The pirate smiled, and together they lay down and fell to slumber without another word.

-

Nasir stumbled down to his room after two hours of carefully monitoring the ship’s progress. If they ran into new storms, he doubted he could do anything to save them, but the pattern that had sent the largest away had been as much his as Castus’s, formed from his magic as much as Agron’s. There was a possibility, faint as it were, that he might be able to control remnants of the same storm.

Thankfully, it did not come to that. He would have remained longer, to be sure, but Laeta had firmly directed him to bed, and Nasir willingly obeyed orders.

On the threshold of his room, he froze. Castus was asleep, lying on his side with a pillow in his arms, and Agron was beside him. He slept on his back, like a soldier, but more relaxed than Nasir had ever seen him. One arm was curled protectively around Castus, the tips of his fingers barely touching the pirate’s forehead.

It had been a long day, and Nasir was weary. He leaned against the doorframe and stared down at them, just taking the moment to… bask in the feeling of contentment that surrounded him. He had never been unhappy with Castus—far from it. Yet now, the very sight of Agron’s fingers curled around the brim of Castus’s wrap made him feel calmer. His heartbeat was steady.

The ship rocked on the waves, and he was reminded of how tired he was. He stumbled into the room, towards Castus’s other side. Just as he was lowering himself to the floor, another temperamental wave caused the ship to rock, Nasir to fall with a soft thump, and Castus to awaken with a jolt. Nasir kissed his cheek.

“Do not stir,” he whispered so as not to wake Agron. “Go back to sleep.”

Castus looked over his shoulder, blinked blearily, and smiled. He turned back to Nasir and settled deeper in the blankets. Nasir snatched the pillow from his arm and placed it beneath his head. Castus’s arm was rearranged around his waist, as well.

“He kissed me.”

“As if you needed another reason to be arrogant,” Nasir muttered, closing his eyes.

“Do not allow jealousy to sour heart. There is room in mine for you, him, and the sea.”


End file.
